


The Heart Wants What it Wants

by labourofliterature



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, F/F, Faberry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 01:43:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3469775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labourofliterature/pseuds/labourofliterature
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had fallen so quickly and so hard and when she'd looked at her it hurt. And it hurt when she didn't. And when she'd touched her it burnt holes in her skin with her fingers, and it felt horrendously like someone had cut her open with a jagged piece of glass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heart Wants What it Wants

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This all happened very quickly and may turn into something more. Please let me know what you think! All mistakes are mine and I do have to credit Katie McGarry for some wonderful quotes.

A/N: This all happened very quickly and may turn into something more. Please let me know what you think! All mistakes are mine and I do have to credit Katie McGarry for some wonderful quotes.

She hadn't cried like this since she was a little girl. The worst type of crying wasn't the kind everyone could see-the wailing on street corners, the tearing at clothes. No, the worst kind happened when your soul wept and no matter what you did, there was no way to comfort it. A section withered and became a scar on the part of your soul that survived. And for Rachel, her soul now contained more scar tissue than life.

Inhale.

The comforter was clenched so tightly between her hands that her knuckles had turned white. All she could do to not combust from the pain was to cling on like it was a lifeline. And right now, it seemed like it was.

Exhale.

Her anxiety had doubled, no, tripled over the past week. It wasn't uncommon for her to suffer panic attacks at least three times a day. There was never a warning, and now there was no antidote. All she could do was make it through each day, praying that no triggers would find her. Bullet point pens. Nail files. Stars.

Inhale.

It'd only been 10 minutes, but this one felt like the worst yet. It had to have been late. It was dark everywhere and the streets were silent, though she couldn't hear much over the numb ringing in her ears. It was as though there was a 100-pound weight crushing her chest and a vice wrapped around her insides, coiling itself tighter with every gasp.

None of her efforts could change the fact that she was stunned in an anxiety attack, and her knees were trembling beneath her. None of her efforts could hide that she was teetering very close to the edge. Not even the darkness could conceal what was happening. Her heart wrenching cries, and gasps for air betrayed her every inner emotion.

Rachel clutched the blanket tighter between her fingers and let her head drop forward to muffle her sounds. It was too late though, because the curtain separating her room from the loft was pulled open just a little and someone was slipping inside.

She felt her bed dip and the scent of peppermint gave away the identity of Santana as she climbed under the covers and wrapped her arms tightly around Rachel. She squeezed, and Rachel leaned into the embrace, lifting her head from the comforter to rest on the shoulder beside her. No words were spoken between them. There never were during these episodes. Soft lips pressed a comforting kiss into the side of her hair, hoping that somehow, her affection could take away some of the pain.

Who was she kidding? Santana had been doing this for almost two weeks now – not that she was complaining, because that would really make her a bitch – and nothing she'd done had helped. She liked to think that maybe things weren't getting any worse with her there, but Rachel was having more panic attacks now, increasingly during the night, and not a lot of people knew how to handle her when she was so fragile. Only a handful, really. And two of them lived in the apartment with her. The other two lived back in Lima, and the last one… well Santana knew that she was irrelevant now – being the cause of all this turmoil in the first place. One of her hands rubbed soft circles into Rachel's lower back when she heard another shaky breath. She wasn't usually like this, and if any of those Lima losers could see her now, they'd think she was a changed woman. Really, she'd just expressed a little more of her human side. Rachel had brought it out of her the past few weeks because, how could she not? Even Santana felt something in her stony heart when she heard Rachel trying so hard to quell her tears at night.

No one deserved to be alone.

She tightened her hold on the girl when she felt Rachel turn her face into her neck. Erratic breaths blazed against her skin and the dampness trailing down her collar reminded her of the first night this had happened. It was two weeks ago today. Three since… Ah. It suddenly made sense why tonight had taken a turn for the worse.

Santana lifted Rachel off her for just a moment so she could turn around. She lay them both down on the bed, noticing that Rachel's unforgiving grip on the blanket wasn't loosening. She pulled Rachel into her and the brunette automatically snuggled closer, settling just under Santana's chin and burying her face into her neck once again.

Soothing circles were pressed into her back, and very slowly calmed the nerves in her trembling body. Another hand eased between them and she felt gentle fingers unwinding her hands and pulling the blanket away. Her hands were free, but she needed something to hold onto to stop herself being pushed further down into the ground. As if reading her mind, Santana pulled Rachel's arm around herself, indicating that she could hold onto her if she wanted. Rachel fisted her nightshirt in her hand and squeezed in hopes of grounding herself. The sigh from above told her that hadn't exactly been Santana's intention, but she didn't care.

Inhale. Exhale.

She could feel the rhythm of another heart against her and copied its pace with her own breathing. It was gradual – and despite the pain in her chest, and lightheadedness, Rachel stopped having to gasp for air as it came in smaller doses. The tears were never ending though, but that'd become normality to all of them now. She could never hide the redness in her eyes, or the swollen skin surrounding. She knew Santana's shirt must be drenched by now, but the arms around her were as firm as ever and she'd given no sign that it was bothering her. She never did. She was good to her, Rachel knew; And she was so grateful to have her. And Kurt. They were incredible on nights like this when the reality of what was falling apart as the days went by weighed heavy on her heart. She was falling further and further away from the life she saw herself living. She could never have predicted this to be her future. Naturally, the bright lights and city nights were a given and anyone could have told you that had you inquired, and being on stage was no surprise to Rachel.

On her darkest nights she started to wonder if New York was losing it's appeal.

She was happy for her friends. Kurt was in love and blossoming into himself at NYADA; and it was hard not to see Santana smiling these days. In the thick of her studies at Columbia University, she spent most of her time with her nose in a book, often reading late into the night with the exception of nights like this when the books were cast aside in favor of her friend. Rachel was glad for them - though slightly envious, because happiness was more than she could say for herself. Living your dream was one thing, but having all the desires you thought you wanted blessed upon you while heartbroken was an entirely different ordeal.

And that was what she had to thank Quinn Fabray for.

It had taken Rachel a year and a potentially fatal car accident to realize that falling in love with Quinn Fabray was a journey with no return ticket, and stacked on top of the fear of rejection and the emotional investment into her performances at school, Rachel was often left with an open wound deep into the left side of her chest on a daily basis. She'd been plummeted back into a life without Quinn. She'd forgotten what it was like to fall asleep alone where the space beside her was cold. Or what the sound of silence was like, because there'd always been another body breathing beside her and rustling under the blankets through sleep. She'd forgotten what the smell of bedsheets were like because there was always another's perfume on her pillow. She'd forgotten what it was like to roll over into more bed, because there'd always been someone to roll into. Rachel's silence had been the sound of Quinn. The smell of her bed had been vanilla and blossom - Quinn had always smelt like flowers. Quinn had been her blanket and the space beside her, keeping everything warm.

From the moment she thought she'd lost her, Rachel had known she was one her dads had been telling her about ever since she was a little girl. She'd longed after the romance she saw in the movies and though many told her she was kidding herself to expect anything of the sort, her dad's had always reminded her that she'd fall one day; and it would be painfully like the movies.

And now at 21 and about to graduate and start her life in the world, it was truer than ever. She had fallen so quickly and so hard and when she'd looked at her it hurt. And it hurt when she didn't. And when she'd touched her it burnt holes in her skin with her fingers, and it felt horrendously like someone had cut her open with a jagged piece of glass. The mere thought of anything that was Quinn hammered her heart into a million pieces. She'd been it. The one. Rachel had been ready to wife her up and put a ring on it, but now she was gone. She'd been gone for three weeks now. It was the longest they'd ever gone without speaking since high school. Quinn was like a drug and Rachel was desperate for more, for anything. She couldn't stand the withdrawal, she couldn't stand not seeing her, not touching her, not being with her.

Everything had changed. The only consistency was the way she was still crying, like she had done as a little girl. She was heartbroken, a shell of what she once was and facing the bitter truth that you don't always get what you wish for, and sometimes life just isn't fair.

She refused to acknowledge what had happened the night before when Kurt and Santana tried to talk to her in the morning. There was a complete awareness of how irrevocably and devastatingly in-love Rachel was, but she couldn't bare the humiliation of actually admitting to holding on to someone who evidently couldn't care less. They all knew what had happened, there was no need to discuss it when all it caused were nightmares assaulting Rachel's memory of the evening that had turned her life into nothing but a wallowing black hole.


End file.
